Poetry Blog by Taylor Crowshaw
on The Matriach (Fri, 1 Mar 2019 11:16 pm)
on The Matriach (Tue, 8 Jan 2019 02:39 pm)
Swaying gently in the breeze,
I am one of the tall pine trees.
Needles fall like rain,
upon the forest's counterpane.
Cones like hailstones to the ground.
The forest animals alert to every sound.
Stirrings from the forest floor,
I wait to oversee proceedings,
a performance which I am leading.
You dare to sit on my branches birds.
I shake you off, you ...
Tuesday 8th January 2019 8:51 am